the WORST
by ladynorthstar
Summary: Loki steps inside the Avengers Tower, to talk with Iron Man... but what could his true intentions be? And why did he choose Tony?  Tony Stark / Loki , Fandral / Loki
1. Chapter 1

"And what would you be doing here?"

Tony was pointing the energy cannon on his palm towards a figure still hidden in shadows, but whose silhouette was hard to mistake with any else's, mostly thanks to a pair of golden satanic horns crowning his helmet.

And yes, the oppressive feeling of being in front of something able to turn your skin into cockroaches by just snapping his fingers helped identifying his guest too, that was for sure.

He stepped off the shadow, revealing himself.

"Do you refer at Gods as they were old friends nowadays? You humans are surely puzzling things."

Loki's green eyes were slightly glowing, as there were gems hidden within his iris, catching all the reflexes of the moonlight and giving them back in a ghostly glare.

He wasn't as imposing as Thor, but his presence alone was enough to make Stark want to be anywhere else but there: Loki wasn't just scary, it was like every nerve and synapses of his body was screaming to him to stay away from that man.

"I asked you what are you doing here, Loki." Stark repeated, charging the energy on his hand with a buzzing sound, ready to at least make some big boom-like noise to attract the attention of the other Avengers "Your brother is not in the Tower, and I have no idea where he is, nor I am willing to listen to any suggestion, offer or proposal: I've been warned enough about your deceptions."

Loki smirked and walked nonchalantly towards Tony, ignoring the threatening of the incoming energy beam. His green and heavy cloak waved behind his back, accompanying his steps, but that or the golden armor didn't make a sound, no clanging, no flapping, nothing: as he was made of air, of nothing.

An illusion?

"Where are you hidden?"

"Can't you detect me?"

"You know I can't… technology doesn't worth much against magic."

"At least you are aware"

The sound came from behind Tony's back, and he found a hand on his armored shoulder, a hand with long fingers and dark green polish on nails.

"You know, I've always wondered why you do paint your nails…"

"You know, I've always wondered why you spend hours styling and shaping your beard."

"Touché."

They were facing each other now.

Wearing his Iron Man suit Tony nearly matched Loki's height, but the difference was still enough to allow the god to look at him from above… not a good sensation.

"You haven't told me why are you here yet."

Loki stirred an amused smile.

"Your existence bothers my brother: he finds you mostly untrustworthy, vain and way too similar to his younger self… I wanted to check."

Tony blinked, puzzled.

"It's that so? You risked stepping inside the Avengers Tower just because you wanted to know someone you brother doesn't like?"

"As I hate him, so everyone he hates becomes dear to me." explained calmly Loki, pointing a finger at the glowing circle on Tony's chest "Besides, it's not like you all represent any danger for me, if my brother is not around."

"You underestimate us."

"No, you overestimate yourselves. You are just humans in the end."

Tony grunted, behind the mask: he didn't like be reminded of that.

Loki seemed quite happy with that reaction, and began studying the room: it was one of the various places Stark used to work in and, consequently, to sleep in, even if the only hint of that was a cot that saw better days with messy sheets abandoned on it. For someone described by his brother as the most self loving person that ever lived, it was rather stark…

The God of Mischief chuckled, amused by his own inner joke.

"Why are you laughing now? Do you find blueprints that funny?"

Tony reached for the working table, clumsy collecting all the papers on it, not aided at all by the indelicate gloves of the suit.

"Oh no… it's just that my image of you was different… my brother is really terrible at judging people."

"Well, he is right about you."

Loki came toward him, challenging the engineer with his eyes.

"Is he? What did he said?"

"That we have not to trust you, as when you speak, you speak lies."

"Oh, that's funny! You know what he said about you?"

Tony removed the front part of his helmet, revealing his face, to stare back at Loki's eyes.

The god was too sure of himself, and that was incredibly annoying to him.

"What did he say?"

"He said that I don't have to trust you, as when you speak, you are drunk."

Stark didn't even think about it, the fist was already travelling towards the god's face, but was promptly blocked.

Bare hands were clasping around the thick metal of his armor, but he could feel the pressure anyway: he had to thank he was actually in his suit, or at the moment he would have been probably be really busy removing pieces of shattered bones from his own flesh.

Loki wasn't in Thor's league, if they were to talk about strength, but sure it was somewhere around Steve's… and that was fairy enough.

"You are an impudent one, Tony Stark."

"And you definitely like to tease way too much, Loki Laufeyson."

Loki smirked, and got closer, his lips nearly brushing on Tony's.

"You know Stark, I spent eight years among humans once, as a woman, to study why my brother liked them so much… and I found that the most interesting parts of them had nothing to do with hearth or intentions…"

"Is that so?"

Tony found himself allowed to retreat his fist, and instead of stepping back, he wrapped his arms around the god's waist, bewitched by his unnaturally green eyes.

He couldn't escape, and he didn't want to.

But he wasn't able to tell yet if it was his own will, or one of Loki's tricks.

Tony's armor wasn't on his body anymore, abandoned near the camp bed in a pile, looking like some stolen trophy, raped from a battlefield and then forgotten.

But there was no sign of Loki's, as there was not of his clothes.

The god just waved lazily his hand in the air and they were gone, turning into an evanescent image of themselves before disappearing. He kept just jewelry on, some chiseled golden bracelets he didn't seem eager to take off.

In any other situation, Stark would have considered that strange, at the moment it was just a tantrum of a beautifully dangerous snake in man clothes, and really sexy ones, that was far enough to distract him from being smart, reasonable or whatsoever.

He had expected Loki to start off a fight for dominance, instead he lured the human into his arms, whispering fast words to persuade the iron suit to slip away, not shielding anymore the tanned body of the Avenger.

Tony didn't even bothered thinking that this was potentially really dangerous, that Loki wasn't supposed to know a way to get rid of his armor just by moving his lips. Because those lips full of lies now were on his own, hungrily reaching for a lustful kiss: Stark lied over the slender figure of the trickster, pressing his weight against Loki, to trap him under himself against the thin and dirty mattress of the cot.

They just kissed for what seemed an eternity, fingers running through each other's hair, rubbing cheeks and noses together, panting and stealing each other's breath, tongues meeting in a painfully slow war full of quick, dazzling battles.

But at some point, Tony just couldn't hold any longer.

He was just a human, he had not the unbreakable patience of the god of deception and of fire, nor his ability to conceal his intentions.

He suddenly lifted himself enough to allow Loki to move and whispered against his lips "turn". The god stole a short kiss, before rolling on his belly, offering to the Avenger the sight of his back, pale as the moon, arching it as Tony began to kiss it, tracing his way down his spine, until he reached for his buttocks, spreading them with rough fingers, licking the twitching hole of the mischievous god.

Loki wasn't much of a screamer, he hardly made any sound.

Even when Tony entered him, and every inch of the human's erection burned against his tense ring of muscles, he just let out a soft moan… but Stark could tell he was liking it.

He could tell from how the fingers of Laufey's son were clinging around the bed sheets, he could tell from how Loki quickly started in what seemed surprise when his thrusts were angled just right, he could tell from how the breath of the god become more and more irregular, and heavy, interrupted by brief high pinched sighs.

After not much, Loki lifted himself to meet Tony's hips, pushing to let him dive deeper inside his body, biting his lips, tense as a violin's string.

Tony rested his hands on the god's hips, to support himself and to keep him still.

Then he began seriously thrust.

Furious, fast, hard.

Loki was curled over himself, moaning and sobbing, in ecstasy: he didn't let Stark have fun for long, because suddenly he arched back, pushing with all he had got against the other man, hands grasping against Tony's arms to stop him, and to support himself.

Just the right angle, just the right second.

With a silent scream, he reached the climax, and with a strangled sigh he let himself fall on the mattress, hearth pounding fast.

Tony was hypnotized.

He delicately leaned over the god, crouched on the bed, kissing his shoulder, while his rock hard erection was still pulsating and leaking precum.

Loki turned his face, green eyes searching for the human's, and he smiled his shiftily.

"Come here, they don't call me Silver Tongue for no reason"

Stark chuckled, and sat on the mighty creature's chest, offering his manhood to the trickster's lips, but Loki didn't allow the human to enjoy his services for long: his skilled tongue drove the already really aroused man to release so fast Tony just had the time to tug Loki's hair while coming deep inside his throat, making his cough in surprise as he set his mouth free.

"A god just swallowed m…"

"Enough!"

Loki shouted him up, rising a finger as he cleaned from the Avenger's sperm the side of his mouth.

He didn't seem much annoyed though.

He sat up, shoving Tony on the opposite side of the shaky camp bed, and crawled over him, attacking his neck.

When Stark managed to regain control, meeting the trickster's lips, all he was able to notice was a really satisfied smirk.

"I fell for one of your tricks, didn't I?"

Tony asked, caressing Loki's back like it didn't matter so much.

"I never so something for no reason"

"And the reason for this was…?"

"My brother doesn't like you already, and being him a proud and close-minded traditionalist as he is, he doesn't like people that shame his little brother by humoring his wanton desire of being used like a woman so…" the light in his eyes was triumphant "I think I just managed to crack the unity that makes Avengers so strong."

Tony frowned.

"And how he is supposed to find out?"

"Oh Tony Stark, I'm still his younger brother… he would be able to smell my scent on you even if you bathe in cologne for the rest of your days, you know?" Loki laughed, before disappearing from the Avenger's embrace, just to appear again on the other side of the room, completely dressed.

"You little tricky bastard…"

Hissed Tony, reaching for his armor's glove, to have at least something to defend himself with.

"You honor me with those words! How kind!" Loki bowed theatrically, and then wrapped himself in his cloak "but I fear now is time for me to go… farewell, Tony Stark"

A blink he vanished, the blink after he was pressing his lips on those of the puzzled human being.

"But I have to admit it was really good."

Tony wasn't able to say anything, to try to do anything, as the world began to spin.

The kiss, there was some kind of sweet tasting venom on the god's lips, that was all he was able to think before the world faded to black.

And with a thud, he fell.


	2. Chapter 2

Loki was sure he liked Tony because he reminded him of Fandral.

That was the most relevant reason why he approached him the first time, aside from the omnipresent purpose of pissing off Thor.

He missed Fandral way much more than he should, and he was aware of that.

He was in exile now, trapped on Midgard, but it wasn't a problem itself: he was used to this situation.

His normal routine was to spend some time in Asgard - his attitude peacefully tolerated by the majority of his citizens - then to do something annoying enough to have Odin chase him out, and when banished to wait for the mead to work his way in his fellow gods minds, enough to have them forget his sin and allow him to come back… for centuries that was how things happened, Loki never really cared about it.

But his last stay on Asgard was surprisingly long, and he had time to observe, to get to know what was around him.

Not that he indulged much in normal godly leisure activities, sparring and tavern fights weren't exactly his idea of how to nicely spend an afternoon, and that was probably the main reason why he had never really the chance to fit it. Not that he disliked it: he loved to fight as much as any other man of Asgard and he was quite a tough opponent when wielding a sword, but… his favorite battlefield was the intellectual one.

For eras he was sure to be the sole and only person actually exploiting the infinite resources of the city's library, a stately maze of bookshelves smelling of paper and dust, buried under spider webs of dirt and tainted by the dismal shadow of abandonment. He used to spend hours and hours sitting on the floor, or at some writing desk that the cruel flowing of time still spared, with an old volume in his hands and his head lost in mental quibbles.

Solitude was his most treasured companion, a trusted one.

But one day it betrayed him.

While walking among the shelves, fingers running on the books' spines, he heard a sound, the clear sound of someone doing the himself into a magpie to conceal his presence, he pattered on the cold granite until he came closer enough to the intruder, spotting a familiar blond mustache.

Fandral.

He did not even knew Fandral was actually ABLE to read – as most of his fellow Asgardians were not – so he decided to examine further the question.

The warrior picked a couple of little books and then leaned his back against the shelves, beginning to read with an interested light in his eyes.

In ages, that was the first time.

And Fandral came back.

Day after day, Loki began to wait for the moment the blonde one actually stepped inside his realm.

Sometimes he spent days without showing up, sometimes he was able to sit there and read for so many hours it was actually difficult for Loki to keep on holding his faux shape.

So he decided to reveal himself, or at least to stop pretending he wasn't there.

Fandral didn't change his attitude when he found out he wasn't alone, crossing casually Loki while looking for a book, he wasn't even much surprised.

They were courteously ignoring each other, at least on the surface, but they couldn't restrain some curiosity.

So Loki found out that most of Fandral readings were old war chronicles, accounts of human enterprises, and, much to his amusement, romances and poetry books.

And Fandral wrote too.

Loki took advantage of his shapeshifting abilities to spy over his shoulder: he wrote down love phrases nice to use to charm ladies, and arranged them to suit his character better.

Ridiculously predictable, that was Loki thought.

But Fandral's handwriting was neat, fluent, Loki liked to simply look at it.

He remembered how Thor handwriting looked like, and couldn't help but chuckle: it was so messy, all shaky straight lines crossing as he was attempting to write magical runes instead of cursive.

Some seasons passed this way, with the two monads haunting the library without even crossing their eyes, then summer came.

In Asgard, seasons weren't really marked, but summer was surely easy to recognize: sun burning hot over the golden towers of the gods city, and every plant and three radiating a green so intense that just the color of Loki's eyes was able to surpass its splendor.

And, even if he liked shadows a lot, the god of Mischief wasn't deaf to the call of nature when it was so beautiful.

He moved then his reading spot from the library to the gardens just outside of it, leading to his mother's palace, and found a three providing such a thick shield of leaves to allow him to enjoy cool and refreshing shadow even in the heat.

But after few days he sat among the branches of the three, hidden to anyone, a familiar figure came by, and lied down on the grass just below, with a book on his hands.

Fandral.

Loki wasn't sure the other man noticed his presence until few weeks after, when the blonde began to read out loud sections of his cheap love stories, or random pieces of poetry, just to disturb Loki. And Loki began to do the same, from time to time, choosing the most creepy and gory details in spells and venom making instructions, to give the warrior something to have nightmares about.

They jokingly provoked each other for more than a month, without ever once directly speaking, then Loki noticed he was actually feeling bothered by something not easy to ignore.

He have been in Asgard for too long, longer than it ever happened in the last few centuries, and he missed one little but vital thing: he missed sex.

Not that with women, even he could lure easily an Asgardian lady in his chambers, he had plenty of it.

He missed sex with men.

When he was trapped on Midgard it was nearly effortless: it was enough to turn himself into a woman and within an hour he had a decent conquer to share his bed with.

But on Asgard that was risky, with Heimdall and Thor around: one for his gifts, the other for a brotherly inexplicable instinct, both were able to spot him way too easily.

Still, he begin to crave for it so much to feel ashamed, his mind set on just one object of his lustful desires… and that was Fandral.

He decided to take action one night, when the drunken warriors of Asgard were celebrating a surprisingly generous hunt with an equally generous amount of beer, and lady Sif was already taking good care of his older brother somewhere in the palace, far enough not to bother him.

Fandral was near Hogun, one hand holding a pint, the other the waist of a blonde lady… that was his chance.

He muttered a short spell, suggesting to the woman's eyes the presence of her legit husband not far away, making her escape. And to contort Fandal's delusion for that sudden disappearance, Loki stepped in.

His body was that of a slender, young woman, a nervous physique, flesh just barely covered by light green drapes, unbraided hair aiding the few cloths in the hard task of covering her - his - small but firm breasts.

Fandral didn't hide his smile when he saw the young lady, and he immediately pointed the vacant space at his right.

Loki kneeled at his side, retrieving a jug of wine from the table, and pouring it generously in the warrior's chalice.

Then a long, deep eye contact… he probably never truly made eye contact with Fandral before, they were too busy teasing to actually care.

It sent a shiver down his spine.

After not much than half a hour, they were in Fandral's chamber, urgently stripping each other with hungry hands while rolling on the bed's soft fur covers, drowning in it as their body grew closer.

Loki couldn't recall a time he enjoyed himself most, nor one he felt more tired.

Panting, hopelessly abandoned on the bed, he arched his back when Fandral came inside his womanly body for the fourth - fifth? - time, then he fell back again, unable to do anything more demanding than breathing.

"Have you enjoyed yourself?"

Asked the warrior, caressing the trickster breasts, then kissing jokingly a nipple.

"Immensely, my lord."

Fandral followed a trail of sweat, licking it with the tip of his tongue, up until he reached the other god's lips, lingering in front of them.

"I'm really glad to hear that… Loki."

Loki blinked in surprise, widening his eyes, unable to control their natural color from surfacing.

He had not planned for this to happen, he hadn't even considered the possibility… how did Fandral…?

"What are you going to do?"

He asked icily, not hiding his usual, most granitic expression… the one that usually froze blood in the other people's veins.

But Fandral laughed.

"I'm not going to do anything Loki… I've been expecting this to happen for a while, it took you a lot to finally do it!"

Loki slightly blushed, puzzled: why that man was able to read him?

"So why are you smirking like an idiot?"

"Well, because… I'm not planning to do anything, but I might change my mind…"

There were no need to add anything more.

"So we have a deal?"

"You are truly a smart one, Silver Tongue"

"I may turn into a wolf when you fuck me and kill you"

"You will not, they'll find out it was you in a matter of minutes."

"We will see."

"We will."

Loki didn't know how he ended up in Fandral's arms again that night, he could have just teleported away… but he didn't want to.

He missed the taste of a man's lips, he missed the feeling of a man's hands, he missed everything about that and… he was still really fond of Fandral.

And it turned out quite soon that the man's threat was all just talk.

In fact, for nearly two weeks he did not bother Loki at all: they meet at the gardens while reading as usual, they barely greeted each other at banquets as usual.

But one morning, Loki found a little piece of paper inside the book he was reading.

"Be mine again"

Such a lack of tactfulness.

Loki liked it.

That become their way to organize encounters, after all it was pretty easy to spot in the library what books were being read at the moment, it was enough to observe the sedimentation of dust on the various volumes.

At the beginning Fandral didn't let Loki go back to his male form while they were together, he stubbornly forbid him to.

Then he began to allow it.

For longer and longer.

In the end Loki's shape didn't matter anymore: woman, man, somewhere oddly in-between, all that Fandral seemed to want was the god of Mischief squirming and moaning under him, driven crazy by his thrusts.

And he seemed really into delivering Loki some punishments too, from time to time, as the son of Laufey always let him do as he pleased, never complaining.

Because Loki liked it, and it served a good purpose too, as it eased greatly the annoying burden of gratitude he felt towards Fandral: letting the warrior abuse him a bit, in order to not feel obliged to him anymore for not setting up conditions for his silence on this.

And his silence on this was really really REALLY precious.

Because Thor didn't like his brother having affairs with men, especially if the men were friends of him… and having Thor becoming hyper protective meant having him always around, and that meant not having time or space to develop his plans.

After all Loki was always scheming something, it was his own nature: he didn't spend all his day reading for nothing, after all.

But then, banishment come.

Loki have expected it to happen, yes, but he didn't expected to feel like that, once trapped on Midgard.

He missed his cocky smile.

He missed the tedious tickle of his mustache.

He missed his tasteless jokes.

He missed his dull poetry.

He missed Fandral more than he ever missed anything he had to left back home.

And then he noticed Stark.

They were brilliant in different fields, that was sure: Fandral was a poetic genius, one of those that on Midgard would have been able to enchant the masses of mortals with their farces, while Stark was mathematical, scientific, analytical and lacked of imagination is such a striking way it was even able to actually reduce the effect of magic around his own persona.

But there was something that made them similar, something in their boastful self-confidence and their snarky and ironic approach to problems that caught Loki's attention.

And the mustache too, yes, that helped.

So Loki tried it out, just to check: he tried appearing as a girl in front of the Avenger, he tried the exact same trick.

Tony didn't even suspect there was something wrong, it fell for it so easily the god was nearly disappointed.

He was no Fandral, after all.

But he was a fitting replacement.


	3. Extra Chapter

Asgard, despite being a city of gods, wasn't used to witnessing any showy display of magic skills.

Magic, after all, was something that just women practiced: instead of wielding swords they drew runes, and everyone agreed that it was something that had to be kept in secret, to be a better and more lethal weapon when the occasion occurred.  
>But Loki was no woman, even if he mastered every secret of seid, the ancient art of sorcery.<p>

Yes, he wasn't really eager to show off his skills either, but sometimes the mead he drank was sufficient to make him lose any self imposed restrain.

He didn't care being called an argr, an unmanly one, he didn't care about being called a witch those were probably the nicest among the appellatives he was usually given.

The few times it happened for him to be drunk and in the right mood during a feast, those times he was finally able to enjoy it, from those who usually scorned him to enjoy their admiration and it tasted so sweet, even if he fancied fear more.

That time, he was really really drunk, mostly because there was no Thor around telling him to stop.

And after spending nearly an hour exchanging wanton glances with Fandral who was trying to flirt with him and with four different ladies all at once he decided he wanted the warrior's full attention that he wanted everyone's attention.

"Balder, brother "

"Yes, Loki?"

"Have you ever seen any of my magic?"

"Aside from your dreadful habit of disappearing and then materializing inside other people's private chambers?"

"Aside from that, yes."

"Never."

Loki smirked, and stood.

"Then I'll show you something entertaining."

Many were hoping for that every time Loki indulged himself with the others, and many exchanged satisfied smiles when they heard the worlds of the god of Mischief.

Loki reached for the musicians, sitting on a corner of the huge hall, on a pile of unicorn furs, and just waved his hand in front of them, lazily.

Their eyes turned into a dead swamp color, and after a few second, the drum began to echo: slow, rhythmic, all the other instruments waiting for its signal.

Loki took his cloak and wrapped himself into it, with a clean movement, and it began to melt into a thick dark green mist, so impenetrable to look fluid.

He fell on his knees, hitting hard the rocks on the floor, disappearing within the mist, the drum still slowly beating, like the heart of a dying beast.

Then the drum stopped, and the mist vanished, in the guise of a torn veil, revealing the trickster.

He wasn't wearing his usual clothes anymore, he wasn't wearing much at all: the only thing covering the pale skin of his trained body was a long skirt made of strips of cloth, hundreds of them, spreading around his kneeled figure like the roots of a three, and his horned helmet was reduced to just a diadem, showing his raven black hair, long enough to caress his shoulders.

When the drum started beating again, it was together with the sound of the lyre, of the lute and pipes, and muttering singing voices speaking a language that not even the gods were able to understand.

And the air itself started to dance with Loki.

He moved on the floor, using his arms, his torso, as a nervous snake checking on his opponent, and so the air become a snake: huge and dangerous, its coils slithering through the room, his head one with Loki's, looking where he looked, turning when he turned.

He crawled with the beast made of air and mist, then shoving his head behind he lifted himself up, standing on his feet with his back completely arched.

The music stopped for an instant, then the drum rolled, a furious war roll, and the snake was a snake no more.

A wolf was battling with and within Loki; as he quickly moved, a pack of wolves was with him.

He was their prey, hiding and dodging their fangs, and their companion, attacking and growling with his whole body, together with them.

Then the pipes began a high note, as high as the sky, and the wolves were wolves no more.

As Loki jumped, he crouched then on the floor.

And when he opened his arms, they were raven's wings.

The floor was made of clouds, and he kept on rising higher and higher, to reach for the moon.

Every time his feet touched the floor at the end of a pirouette, the drum beat once, the sounds of wings cutting the dense air of a rainy night.

But when the last spin ended, the crow wasn't flying anymore.

And standing, waiting to burn the universe with his implacable fire, there was a dragon.

The dragon was sinuous like the snake, but had the strength of the wolf and the majestic grace of the grim raven.

The drum was crazy, and the twanging strings of lyre blew fire all around.

The fire had life itself, and had life within Loki's hands, as he moved them, nervously controlling every finger, together with the dragon.

And the dragon had just pointed where his rage was going to unleash, had just pointed his prey, when everything stopped.

The air become air again, and on Loki's orgasmic face a smile surfaced.

"Thor "

Loki moaned his name, while the god of thunder was behind him, holding his younger brother by his wrists to stop that madness.

"You are shaming yourself."

"Am I? It seems to me, they never liked my company as much as they do now."

"Stop now."

Thor's tone was severe, but Loki couldn't help but laugh: it found amusing his brother's exaggerate protectiveness.

He mewled, leaning against his body.

"Are you jealous, bother? Are their hungry eyes, just for me and I had to do so little to gain this "

"You are no whore, stop behaving like one." Thor's was a harsh whisper, to be heard just by his brother.

He wrapped the sweaty body of the son of Laufey with a corner of his mantle, hiding it from the lustful looks of the other Asgardians.

They normally didn't care about Loki. Not that he was not handsome he was and in a disturbingly feminine way but they were too scared of him, or disappointed by his pranks, to actually pay attention to this detail.

But when he danced, they all noticed.

And Thor preferred his brother to be safely ignored, because when he was too in sight, it meant only troubles, every time.  
>Loki, too drunk to analyze his brother's actions, was just laughing, and his eyes were wandering tough the onlookers, searching for Fandral's.<p>

He was really satisfied to notice that even now the warrior wasn't able to shake them from his hips.  
>Thor dragged him outside the hall , hoping to put an end to it, but his attempt put some sense in the god of mischief's head wasn't really successful.<p>

"Go to sleep."

"I have no intentions to do so."

"Please Loki, you are drunk."

"And you are too na ve."

He teleported away before the god of thunder could counter, right on Fandral's chambers: he teased enough, now he wanted his reward.

Thor sighed, scratching his head.

There was no use in trying to save Loki from himself after all.

No use at all. 


End file.
